Fuck, I hope he does his worst.
In and out he pistons those fingers, curling and scissoring with each thrust as he pounds the heel of his palm against my clit. Higher and higher I climb, every muscle taut with the building release. The monitor beeps at an erratic pace, offering an unexpectedly erotic background noise.
Just as I hit the top, my body primed to fall into ecstasy, Trey withdraws his fingers completely. I whimper as I pinch my nipples harder, desperate to do whatever it takes to find my release. My lids flick open at a faint sucking sound.
Smiling around those three fingers, Trey wraps his lips around the lowest knuckle and sighs. His own eyes flutter closed. The hand not at his mouth flicks the top button of his jeans, allowing the band to gape enough that the purple head of his engorged cock peeks out. A bead of precum glistens at the top. I lick my lips, eager for a taste.
“You want this?” His voice is low and raspy with the need that’s clearly written across his tight features. He swipes a thumb over the head, wiping the tempting drop away. Leaning forward, Trey shoves his thumb into my awaiting mouth. “Suck it clean, baby.”
“Fuck,” I mutter around his thumb as I lick it. He yanks it away before I’m ready, causing it to pop from my lips.
“Your turn.” Gripping my forearm, careful of the IV and gauze covering my wrists, he yanks my hand from my breasts. Like a puppet arm, he guides my hand lower, the dangling fingers barely ghosting over my sensitive skin. Interlacing his fingers over mine, he forces my own palm to cup my drenched pussy. “Feel what drives me absolutely insane. Feel yourself from the inside with me.”
The machine goes wild, the beeping turning to an ear-piercing alarm. With a growl of frustration Trey leans over the bed and yanks the plug from the wall. Chest heaving, he looms over me, a small smile spreading over his face.
“It was fun while it lasted, but I think I know exactly how you feel about all this.” For emphasis, he forces two of my fingers into my channel. My eyes roll into the back of my head, my hips lurching off the mattress. Sitting back on his heels, Trey unzips his jeans.
Two of his thicker fingers slip between my own, the combination tight and fucking awesome. I clench around our combined fingers, loving the fullness.
“Your tit, Randi. Pinch that nipple hard like my teeth would feel.”
Don’t have to tell me twice. I’m quick to do as I’m told.
“Look at me. Look at what you do to me.” I force my eyes open. His free hand is wrapped around his thick cock, knuckles white as he pumps up and down. “Every time you’re in the room. Every time you cross my mind, I get hard enough to club someone with my damn dick. But this, watching you fingerfuck yourself, playing with your tits, it fucking hurts so damn good.” He increases our pace, shoving our combined fingers in and out. “Come around our fingers, baby. Come for me.”
Pressing the heel of my hand down, he grinds it against my clit.
I almost bolt off the bed as the intensity of the orgasm crashes over me, but Trey keeps me pinned with our hands pressed to my mound. My head lolls to the side, the release of built-up emotions draining all my thoughts and energy. Every muscle trembles with exhaustion. Relieved tears build behind my sealed lids before slipping out and dripping down my temples.
With a curse, Trey withdraws our hands. I whimper at the loss. It turns to a cry of shock as he falls forward, catching himself with an elbow to the mattress as he slams in deep in the same movement. On a hot puff of air, his mumbled curse brushes against my ear.
“Fuck yes,” Trey grunts as he flexes and rotates his hips to seat himself deeper.
I dig both heels into his flexing ass, urging him to take everything. Fingers wrapped around my hip bone, he tilts my pelvis. With shallow thrusts at the new angle, he hits a spot that has stars sparking behind my eyes.
“There,” I breathe. “Fuck, right there. More,” I beg.
“Yes, Madam President,” he whispers against my neck.
The bed creaks, the legs grinding against the floor as it shifts with each of Trey’s powerful thrusts.
I tighten around him, eager to find the release that’s building once again.
“You’re squeezing the life out of my cock,” he grunts. “Don’t fucking stop.” His thrusts slow as he works against me. “Fuck,” he curses. “Come with me, baby. Come around my dick like you did your dirty little fingers.” Teeth sink into my neck, hard but without breaking the skin.
That pinch of pain does it. I shatter. Everything floats away. Nothing matters but this out-of-body feeling only a soul-shattering orgasm can offer. I forget to breathe as I chase the last trembles and waves of pleasure.
“Breathe, baby,” Trey pants. His hot breath brushes my sweat-slick neck.
I gasp, sucking in a lungful of air.
“An orgasm so good you forgot to breathe. That’s a new one.” He chuckles. We both moan at the vibration it causes where our bodies are still connected.
“I don’t ever want to move,” I admit. Leaning up, I press a kiss to his damp shoulder.
“Pretty sure you can’t run the free world with my cock buried in your pussy.”
I smile, blinking away the tears still clinging to my lashes. “I could always try, but it might make press conferences a bit porn-ish.”
“We need to get you ready to go home. They’re releasing you today.”
With a few protests that are said more like curses, Trey pushes off the bed. He rests his hands beside my ears, his love-filled gaze chasing away the remaining fears of what’s to come.
“One more time?” I ask, biting my lower lip.
A wide smile breaks across his face, those straight white teeth on full display.
“You’re the boss,” he mutters as his lips dip to my straining nipple.
My lids flutter closed as I rake a hand through his soft strands.
Later, reality will need to be addressed. Work will be overwhelming once again.
Tomorrow, I’ll have to address the world and explain what happened along with other news they’ve been impatiently waiting for.
But right now?
Right now it’s just him and me.
And that’s all that really matters in the end.
Chapter Twenty-Three
Randi
Out of all I’ve done in my life, this has to be the most nervous I’ve ever been. Of all the debates, challenging powerful men, and living through unnerving situations, why am I afraid now?
I hate this. The worry, anxiety, the voices in the back of my head telling me I can’t do it. Is that Shawn taunting me from the grave, still whispering in my ear about how I’m not good enough, nor will I ever be good enough, strong enough? I don’t know, maybe. Or has it always been there but my drive and self-built confidence have been enough to always drive it away?
The firm cushion of the buttercream sitting chair shifts as I lean forward. Elbows on my knees, I wring my fingers and attempt a deep breath to settle my nerves.
A twinge of discomfort causes a grimace, but it’s not as painful as it was. My body is healing quickly thanks to the days my doctors required me to rest. I hated every second.
I smile to myself despite the turmoil of thoughts running through my head. Well, I hated every second except that last hour with Trey in my bed before I was discharged.
I stare at my nude pumps. The shoes that cost more than three months’ mortgage on my trailer back in Boone. I don’t even want to think about the comparative cost to the tailor-fit pantsuit I’m wearing. Or the expensive toiletries and makeup stocked in my bathroom.
I shake my head, long silky dark locks slipping over my shoulder to frame my face.
“It’s just a press conference,” I mutter to myself. “It’s fine. I’m fine.” Releasing my fingers, I shake them out, allowing the cool air to wick away the clamminess. A quick glance at my watch tells me I have thirty minutes before I’m expected.
Fuck, I hate the waiting. I could’ve scheduled it earlier—I am the president
, after all, and it’s me they want to hear from—but under the guise of needing more time, I forced them to wait until today. Two days after my release. Four days from when Trey found me. Five days from when I was abducted and beaten.
I swallow hard. There’s a slight tremble in my hand as I raise a red-tipped finger to my teeth. Really I needed the past few days to get my shit together. Not that I have it all together now, but each day is better. Plus it gave me time to reconnect with Tae and that sweet little baby. We didn’t leave each other’s side for twenty-four hours after she nearly tackled me the moment I stepped foot into the resident side of the White House.
There was also something else I needed to do. Something personal I’ve been meaning to take care of for Trey. Between taking calls from the bed, the physical training exercises, and Tae popping in every hour to make sure I was still here, I was able to accomplish what I’d set my mind to. He doesn’t know yet. Well, at least I don’t think he does, unless his attorney called him the minute the funds were released.
Some might call it an abuse of power, but screw them. It wasn’t that at all. Yeah, it made reaching the attorney general way easier, since I have his number programed into my favorites list, but that’s not why he authorized the release of Trey’s trust fund.
No, that was all me and my Harvard education mixed with my debate experience. Once he saw the evidence and traced the funds back to the original source—Trey’s grandfather—the attorney general realized the oversight and corrected it.
Boom.
“That might be better than a boob punch to Celia,” I mutter.
“Who are you boob punching?”
I jump an inch from the seat, the hand at my lips coming to press against my racing heart. Breathing hard, I shoot Sam an accusing glare. “Don’t scare me like that.”
“I knocked.” Those dark brows furrow as concern flashes across his features. “Randi, no one expects you to be fine after what you went through.”
“I know,” I say on a sigh and lean back against the chair, angling my body to face where he stands by the door. “It’s just… I’m constantly on edge now, you know? Like every sound, every move might be the one that happens right before I’m taken again.”
“Are you seeing someone?” He steps deeper into the room and sits on the footboard of my bed.
“Yeah, and a friend.” Said friend, Sarah, has been a lifeline. Taking my calls at all times of the night, letting me ramble on and on. Helping me feel strong again by taking me through simple self-defense lessons until my body is fully healed and we can get back to our old workout routine—i.e. her kicking my ass. That first day back in the White House, she stopped by with T. I’ll never forget her look of absolute fury when she saw my bruised face. If Shawn wasn’t burned to a crisp and nothing more than ash and a bad memory, I think Sarah would’ve dug up his remains and killed him all over again.
I smile at the thought. I love my protective friend. Everyone needs a Sarah in their life. And a T. And a Trey.
“You’ll get through it. I have no doubt Benson will make sure of it.”
My smile widens. “Yeah.” Shaking my head, I disperse the memories that are trying to force their way forward. “What’s up? Why are you here?”
Sam’s bright green eyes burn through me. “We’re friends, Randi. I’m here to check on you.”
Him and Vlad, it seems. Vlad has called every day to check on my recovery progress and sent over enough Russian vodka to keep me drunk for decades. He says it’s a cure-all, though I haven’t had the time to test out his theory just yet.
“And stopping by to make sure I still plan to announce we’re running for a second term.” Amusement lightens my tone.
“You are known for making surprising statements to the media, so yeah, I want to make sure you're still on board.”
I grin around the nail between my teeth. “No need to worry. I’m in this, and I’m ready to let the world know.”
Shoulder against the bedpost, Sam surveys the room. “I can’t believe Rosen was dirty.”
“I can.” Shock registers on Sam’s face. “It was little things here and there.” I shrug. Little did I know the extent of the dirt on Todd’s hands, of course. That fool had his hooks in just about every dirty transaction in this city, wheeling and dealing to keep the money coming his way. Vlad was right about him, he did sell his loyalty to the highest bidder—and paid the price for it with his life.
“I’ll have to find his replacement,” I grumble. Massaging my temples, I focus on calming breaths.
“Let me work on that for you, Randi. Let me take something off your plate for a little while.”
I shoot him a grateful tight-lipped smile that doesn't reach my eyes. “Thank you. Oh, and you’re not too far off on typical Randi announcing shocking things to the media.”
That puts his full attention on me. “I’m scared to ask what bomb you’re planning to drop on them today.”
I cringe at his choice of words. “Let’s not say it like that when I actually hold the authority to drop real bombs on people, okay?”
“Touché. What will you—” He waves a hand like he’s searching for the perfect word. “—expose to the media today, Madam President?”
A soft snort escapes me. I don’t know why, but when he says it, I always laugh. Maybe because he knew me back in law school, or because we plotted Kyle’s demise together. Or maybe it’s because his own eyes hold a bit of humor when he says my title. We’re a good team, Sam and me. And we will be again for another four years if the voters agree.
“I’m announcing today about—”
“You should be resting.”
Sam and I turn to the owner of that deep, commanding voice. My heart does a little skip at the sight of Trey in a form-accentuating suit. Arms crossed over his chest, he shifts his displeased expression from me to Sam and back again. The two guns holstered near his chest peek out, drawing my gaze. “Give us a few, would you, Pierce?”
Sam dips his chin and shoves off the bedpost. “It’s nothing crazy, right?” he asks, alluding to what I was about to reveal before Trey slipped into the room.
I shake my head, more of my dark hair falling over my shoulders and tickling my cheeks. “Nothing crazy. At least now you’ll be as surprised as the rest of the world,” I say with a wide grin. I’m sure it’s eating him up not knowing.
He huffs, tossing his hands in the air, making his dress shirt sleeves slip up his arms and expose the bright inked skin beneath. Grumbling about something, Sam exits the bedroom, leaving Trey and me alone.
“You okay?” he asks, coming to where I sit and crouching low to put us at eye level.
I force a reassuring smile. “Yeah, just nervous.”
He blinks, confusion clear in his eyes. “Why? You’ve done this a hundred times before.” Something dark flashes over his face, making his features harden. “You don’t have to tell them shit about what happened, Mess. Tell them there was an incident and it’s over, handled by your very capable Secret Service team.” He winks at the end, but it lacks the lightness he’s attempting to create.
I chew on the tip of my pinkie nail. “It’s that and….” Trey’s gentle fingers grip my tender wrist and lower the hand from my lips. “Everything is about to change, Trey. Are you ready for that? Are you really ready to stop being an agent, to be the first First Husband? What if you resent me for making you give it all up? What if—”
He cuts me off with a hard kiss, making me swallow the next words. Callused palms cup my cheeks. I give in to the kiss, relaxing into him until it’s only his hands holding me upright. All the stress, worry, and fear slip to the background. He hasn’t taken them, just moved them aside to remind me of the only thing that matters.
Him.
He pulls back an inch, leaving me panting for more. I lean forward to seal our lips together again.
“Breathe, Randi.”
Closing my eyes, I do what I’m told, inhaling as deeply as my still healing ribs will allo
w before becoming unbearable and then releasing it slowly.
“I was going to do this after the press conference, but, well, I think we both need this now. Just know I had a whole thing planned.” His words go in one ear and out the other as I continue my deep breathing. “Open your eyes, Mess.”
After one more exhale, I lift my lids. The smile that was pulling at my lips freezes on my face. I blink once, twice, expecting the image to change. But it doesn’t. Nope Trey, my Trey, is still on his knees with a small red velvet box held out between us.
I swallow, my breaths short and shallow.
You’d have to be an idiot to not know what’s about to happen. I know. He knows I know. And I know he knows I know. Yet I still can’t bring myself to shift my eyes away from the box to the man holding it.
Then he goes and makes it worse. He opens the damn box. I thought it held my undivided attention before, but now I want to disappear into the brilliant glittering diamond blinking beneath the few sun rays that have slipped past the blinds and curtains.
“I….” That’s all I got. Yep. A Harvard graduate, president of the United States of America, and that one little word, which was more like a gurgle than a word, is all I can think to say.
“My world starts and stops with you, Randi Sawyer. I didn’t understand what living was until I pulled you from that burning limo and met you. Every moment we share is one I savor. When we’re apart, it’s like a part of me is missing until you're back in my arms. I want you for the rest of my life. I need to be by your side every day and to hold you in my arms every night.” The emotion is clear in his shaky voice and damp eyes. “I never want to wake up without you beside me again. Please say yes. Say yes to me worshiping you, loving you, and protecting you for the rest of our lives. Marry me, Mess. Please fucking marry me.”
Streams of tears drip from my cheeks. Forgetting about the layers of makeup that were applied for the upcoming press conference, I swipe the dampness away with the back of a hand.
Power Term: A Secret Service Romantic Suspense Series (Power Play Book 5) Page 22